


Just Another Mission

by Accidental_Ducky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: implied stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7938613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidental_Ducky/pseuds/Accidental_Ducky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing this woman brought back memories of winter nights spent curled protectively around a similarly weak person, flashes of blonde hair, bleeding noses, and blue eyes that meant nothing could go wrong excepts fights in alleys. He could see a slight frame leaning against him when he allowed his eyes to close, a strong man leading the way through snow-covered terrain with only a round shield as protection, a deep voice that meant freedom and all things good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Mission

 It was late afternoon, the wind was whipping harshly outside as the snows continued to fall and cover everything in a dusting of white. The cold outside made his entire arm ache, though he knew that it shouldn’t be possible, the cold metal of it glinting in the muffled light in the hospital room. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind, thin lips set into a firm line as he stares down at his target.

Simple, old, and frail; brown hair shot through with gray fanned out on a perfectly fluffed pillow, bright red-painted lips relaxed in sleep, black lashes resting against impossibly pale skin. She was sick, she was unable to fight back, the perfect target, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger of the pistol he held in his hand. She was  _too_  simple,  _too_  old, and  _too frail_.

 _Oh God, she was so small and undefended and he wanted to walk out the door_.

Seeing this woman brought back memories of winter nights spent curled protectively around a similarly weak person, flashes of blonde hair, bleeding noses, and blue eyes that meant nothing could go wrong excepts fights in alleys. He could see a slight frame leaning against him when he allowed his eyes to close, a strong man leading the way through snow-covered terrain with only a round shield as protection, a deep voice that meant freedom and all things good.

He  _wanted_  that person back, wanted more than anything to feel that person against him again, to tell him everything was going to be okay. He wanted to know that he wasn’t some monster that couldn’t even control himself at the best of times and that he was  _worth something_.

“Barnes,” a shaky voice states, the tone full of authority despite how much it wavered. Gray eyes flicker open and he catches sight of his target with her eyes wide open, staring up at him like she was seeing a ghost. “You’re alive?” He keeps his lips pressed together, not daring to speak for fear of his voice being just as weak as the woman’s. “Sit down and explain yourself, soldier.”

It takes years of training to stay standing, his knees trying to buckle on command. No target has ever caused such a reaction in him before and he was wondering why this woman would be any different. She was just an old woman that HYDRA wanted rid of, an obstacle to be dealt with, but he didn’t want to. His thoughts recoiled at the thought of killing this woman because she was connected to that blonde figure he kept seeing in his mind’s eye. 

With a hard swallow, he holsters the pistol and spins on his heel, exiting through the window and landing gracefully on the asphalt outside. The van was waiting for him, simple to blend in with the other company vehicles, and it sped away from the curb the second he had the door shut. The drive to the private airport was quick, the plane ride was spent in tense silence surrounded by armed men, and the return to the Russian facility was a blur. 

They grabbed him and roughly shoved him into the chair, strapping him down and putting the teeth guard in his mouth. He knew what was coming next, the sharp electric pain of having his memories stripped from his mind. Squeezing his eyes closed, he focused hard on the blonde person, remembering how small the other man was, how perfectly they fit against him.  _Steven Grant Rogers, born on the fourth of July, a fighter, a best friend till the end of the line; he was a Captain, an ally, and the first person James Buchanan Barnes had ever kissed_.

And when he opened his eyes, the Winter Soldier was ready for his next mission. 


End file.
